


the sun, the moon, and the sky

by Little Keplerette (classycloudcuckoolanderclasso)



Category: Mother 2: Gyiyg no Gyakushuu | EarthBound, Mother 3
Genre: F/M, Gen, Multi, No Dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-30 02:22:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18306251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/classycloudcuckoolanderclasso/pseuds/Little%20Keplerette
Summary: They are but celestial beings in the endless sky that is her arms, seeking the warmth of her holy embrace.





	the sun, the moon, and the sky

**Author's Note:**

> i've been thinking of posting all the mother trilogy things i've written into google docs here. here's one of many. it's very short because it's just a drabble of me trying to test parallel description.
> 
> please give clauless [claus/paula/ness] a chance, they just want to be happy

Ness is the sun.

Paula thinks it is a frighteningly accurate description of the boy with the red cap, the hero of Onett. Ness is a burning hot ball blazing through life and leaving an inferno in his wake, shining bright in the dark and remaining a beacon of hope for many lost and afraid. He is birdsong in the middle of spring when the gardenias have bloomed and the snow has melted, giving way to the new life underneath. His voice is psychedelic rock, pulsating with energy and vibrancy and  _ life _ , his words primary colors mixing together and becoming an infinite array of colors.

Ness is the first ray of sunshine peeking through the blinds of a window on a new summer’s day, kissing one’s cheeks with a happy little good morning to start off the day. He is sweet optimism tinged with understanding realism, he is the rainbow at the end of a summer rain. He is warm, warm, warm.

Ness is the sun, and she is but a formless cloud, nonexistent next to his brilliance.

* * *

Claus is the moon.

Paula thinks it is a frighteningly accurate description of the boy with the mismatched eyes, the prodigal son of Tazmily. Claus is a stone cold as ice falling and rolling and running over others with little more than a single lick of care, icy and barely lit, glowing faintly in the dark he called home. He is cricketsong in the middle of autumn when the leaves have fallen and the trees are bare, having shed their coats to brace themselves for hardship. His voice is a soft cacophony of string and percussion, gentle oh so gentle until his words  _ thunder  _ and  **_drum_ ** through the hearts of all who hear him.

Claus is the soft light of the moon gently caressing the faces of lovelorn fools, meeting on the bridge keeping two worlds apart. He is bitter pessimism tinged with cautious realism, he is the first snowflake of the coming winter winds. He is cold, cold, cold.

Claus is the moon, and she is but a dying star in his vast night sky, twinkling alone in the dark.

 

* * *

 

Paula is the sky.

Always changing, yet forever beautiful. An array of colors never constant but ever brilliant.

To Ness she is a mystery cloaked in the soft shades of dusk, lit only by the light of fireflies dancing around the trees. She is elegance and grace contained in gentle candlelight, the eye of the hurricane, the frost on a window before the storm of hail. Paula is gentle but fierce like the bite of snow on a winter’s day, but warm and comforting like the soft blanket of childhood. Her voice is the melody of the night in its soft and loving carefulness.

To Claus she is a dandelion lit in the livening shades of dawn, spreading her influence to the world and planting roots where she goes. She is a twister in her chaos, a wildfire in her fury, a thunderstorm in the middle of summer in her grief. Paula is the paint that colors the blank canvas of his world with the vibrancy of her emotion, the oddly harmonious cacophony of her belief. Her voice is the swansong of his heart in its sunkissed glory.

Paula is both light and dark in the hearts of the two. The yin and yang that struck a careful balance and kept the world in motion. She is both cheerful pessimism and bitter optimism, she is both the cold suffocating ocean and the hot scorching desert. She is cold, warm, and everything in between like the colors of the skies above their heads.

Paula is the sky, and they are but fixtures in her heavenly embrace, clinging to something they can never hope to really have.


End file.
